


Absolution Calling

by frankbannister



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Basically Humans Suck, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Major Original Character(s), Physical Abuse, Psychological Drama, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Self-Discovery, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2020-10-20 10:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20673728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankbannister/pseuds/frankbannister
Summary: a story about fathiers, a 'droid, and all they endure as they live in a galaxy that treats them as property. will that ever change?this is a story i wrote almost immediately after watching TLJ, i worked on it between December 2017 and February 2018. I'll be posting it up a few chapters at a time as i look through it for spelling and errors.





	1. Prologue

* * *

_ Looking out into a bleak, open world ahead of him, there’s a quietness to the air surrounding it. He’s usually fearful of this, the silence speaks of incoming travelers. _

_ Here, it feels different, somehow a closer step to peace. _

_ Turning to his left, he sees the pile of dirt from which he was born. Was there a time when he was free, and was it in the few fleeting moments after barreling into this world? _

_ He is looking out into a bleak, open world, but one with many possibilities for all born here now. _

* * *


	2. - Chapter One

The morning begins as he hears the shrill doorbells. An uncomfortable awakening to an existence filled with despair. He looks up at the space above filling with dreary light, he does not stand up, the light is not for him. 

“You get outta there, there’s work to be done, you useless pile of wires!” the usual man’s voice yells, angrier than ever this morning. Sometimes the voice is different, that one is not as angry.

The noise sounds like clanging, the noise sounds like moving, the noise is now sweeping. He knows what the noise is, but does not get up to greet it. The pains of his body are too much to stand and possibly be wrong.

“Are you in there, Djarka? Or did you leave in the middle of the night?” a somewhat amused voice calls out low. 

Djarka stands up tall to overlook the stall and confront this, he does not like when Seedy makes this joke. As a fathier, he is intimidating in height and strength, but as a fathier, he is gentle in temperament and composure. 

He makes a small huffing sound and twitches his ear at Seedy as he takes a glance over towards the other stalls. He’s the only one in here at the moment, the others would have made their presence known by now. Still a bit sore from yesterday, he turns his neck back over to Seedy.

Seedy then walks up the ladder to the stall, opens his chest compartment and makes a motion for Djarka to take notice of the area behind him. Seedy’s face suddenly has three yellow colored blips appear, almost as if it is a smile across his light blue face.

“All clear, friend?” he asks as quietly as a ‘droid can.

Djarka makes a small head tilt to let him know that there are no watching eyes and without missing a second, Seedy tosses up a small berry-like fruit for Djarka to catch. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, he is grateful to have this ‘droid as a companion. He is the only one to ever show him goodness in this world.

After eating his treat, he swishes his tail with a thought; One day, he will find many poquis and will lead all the fathiers to delight in this treasure that none have ever had. Another thought taps at his conscience gently, and that is that he hopes to one day give Seedy kindness in return.

He musters up all of his strength to keep standing and keep Seedy company, he feels lonely and bored today and knows that watching his friend tend to his duties will keep them both company, though they do not dare make their friendship obvious. A mistake like this could cost the life of the least valuable being.

* * *

Of all the days he is to work in the stalls, Seedy prefers it to be after the races biggest wins. Today does not happen to be that day, it’s heavy all around, and the atmosphere feels angry. He feels as trapped as the fathiers must feel every second of their life, this he knows all too well.

In the morning, before he met with Djarka, he witnessed the brutal punishment that all the losing fathiers must endure. 

Told to stand by with medical devices in hand to revive any that might possibly die; only to be beaten and burned twice as much, once brought back to life. As a ‘droid, he has no concept of physical anguish and searing pain, he does however, understand that it is the utmost cruelty to exist in the galaxy when combined with the emotional and mental abuse that the fathiers face all their lives. 

Seedy is far away inside his artificial neural network, attempting to distance himself from the horror ten feet in front of him when he heard yelling in his general direction. He attempts to replay the last twelve seconds that happened in front of his lens. It’s too late, the stall owner is heading for him and he’s furious.

“I said for you to get the WQ-22 device out to increase blood clotting in number fifteen, you stupid clanker! Am I going to have to destroy your mix-mash of a body piece by piece to get your attention?” frothed the man, his face this up close to his lens was ugly, he notes, with bright red blotches of anger and years of hatred.

It was already too late for Seedy to do anything, the man had burned off a slice of metal through his left leg that caused him to lose balance. He managed to not drop anything on his tray thanks to his reflex bearings being in good shape. This would only cause more anger and possibly an actual attempt at destruction.

“Sir, a scan of the last seven minutes has shown me that the device is located in your front pocket.” he says as frankly as he can, without emotion.

He watches as the man tosses various burn igniters at the two closest fathiers as an act of pure rage. Seedy still has forty-five minutes of this to endure and he knows he must not lose track of the moment again. He watches and records the horror of all that is happening in front of him.

The time has run dry and the only reason they stop torturing these creatures happens to be because their captors have grown bored. After seeing them out of the old hangars and into their workshops, Seedy takes this opportunity to repair the missing slot of metal that is keeping him from walking without hobbling. He is quick, precise, and able to mend it without issues, this is a routine he has grown accustomed to in the last six months that he has been here. 

As he is sorting the medical tools into their proper cabinets, a much smaller ‘droid is sent to deliver a message directly to him. It fluttered about with a noisy propeller.

“I have never seen you around here. In fact, I do not believe I have ever seen a ‘droid like you before.” he says, somewhat puzzled, with a tilt of his head.

The ‘droid delivered its message in a series of beeps and scratches that Seedy immediately identified as a form of morse code combined with binary that had been transposed. 

“This must mean the message has been slightly encrypted to avoid humans easily picking it up and understanding it. However, easy enough for a ‘droid like myself to decode it in a matter of milliseconds.” he thought to himself. 

He promptly thanked the delivery ‘droid and made his way towards the mansions which are located eight-hundred yards to the west of the stalls and hangar. Far enough to distance themselves from their evil, but close enough to keep watch when needed. He made his trek with ease and enjoys the diversion of his everyday life. Seedy has never been anywhere else on the property, except the wind fields on his first day, as they wanted to measure his abilities.

Upon arriving at the gates, he is somewhat unsure of how to contact the next ‘droid without arousing suspicion among the humans that live here. He decides to send out a series of binary beeps at thirty-thousand hertz, only a ‘droid within range will pick this up, and he will be able to signal from below when they appear at a window.

It takes a few minutes of repeating the signal, but finally he sees a small black ‘droid float under the curtain. It’s quite round and has a few antennas protruding from it. It sends a signal back exactly the same way and Seedy decodes it: “Meet me at back door number four, mansion number six.” 

He makes his way there quickly, but in a matter of seconds he is attacked from behind with an electrical cane that the men use to brand the fathiers. This hit him with such intense force that his arm was launched across the walkway before his reflexes kicked in. 

“Get it inside before it can grab its arm!” said one female.

“Hurry up! They’ll be here any moment!” a second female hoarsely yelled next to him.

Seedy is dragged into a small room. As he is looking around, it’s dark and his sensors read that it is quite dry with a low oxygen level. This activates a safety feature within him that emits a high frequency warning to all nearby humans. The young women that dragged him here do not seem to be around and perhaps he’s in a place that muffles sound so they cannot hear it. He disables the warning and gets up to take a look around. He sees his arm set on a chair and walks over to inspect it. 

“Is this a trap?” he quietly says to himself before reluctantly reaching for his arm. 


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fell back deeply into a different fandom right as i was working on uploading this. i know that no one is reading it, but here's the second chapter. after looking through it for a while i didn't see anything too obvious in need of editing. all i did was cut the chapter shorter and move the end to chapter three instead. (okay, i have edited this chapter a tad, the ending was bothering me. it felt subtly cut off instead of interestingly thoughtful. hope it flow a bit better now.
> 
> \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

* * *

“Well, it seems to be in fully working order.” Seedy says to himself after inspecting his arm and reconnecting it to his elbow joint.

He looks around the room once again, he cannot find an exit, he also cannot remember entering the room. Inspecting his lens recording, the last thing he can access is seeing the door to the mansion before the footage glitches and cuts out.

“This must mean my neural network was shut off…. Did someone know where my switch is located? Was I possibly dead for an indeterminate amount of time?”

These thoughts plague Seedy for hours, he can’t possibly know how much time has passed since he was shutdown. What did someone do to him in that time? Has it been hours, days, possibly years since he was last alive?

As there is nothing to be done about it at the moment, he takes a seat on the chair and waits for his captors to return, if they ever will at all.

* * *

It’s been a few races since Djarka has felt the sting of a burn ignitor against his body. He is still whipped and beaten on the way to the stables, they must always put the fathiers in their place of inferiority in this galaxy, winners or losers. And in a cruel tactic of creating division and distrust among the fathiers, they spare the top winners the constant assault of physical or emotional abuse in a separate stable.

This has been his life for the meantime as he’s come in at betting numbers higher than the majority and takes the lead in the end, sometimes without trying. He knows this will not last for much longer, it never does and it will all come crashing down on him one day.  
The reality of it is that Djarka’s soul aches more than his body ever has, for he is toppling over with emotions that burden his every waking thought; especially when on the tracks.

He is most concerned with the few aging fathiers that have not won a bet in weeks. No matter the size of the percentages they place them into, they cannot seem to make their way through to the end. He fears for the day that he will helplessly watch as they collapse into their age or injuries on the track. That is the day that will anger the man most of all as they will also take the riders down with them and they do not survive the landing.

He is feeling very nervous and his thoughts are spinning further. He knows that it’s not long until they are coined useless in this life either way. They will then be discarded into the shooting range as “game material” to fulfill their losing bets for observers, or they will simply be shoved into the burner alive as the man cackles with each cry they make.

Though Djarka is young, he has seen many deaths since he began racing. He’s also been the unfortunate witness to fathiers that purposefully kill themselves during a race. It’s the only time they are able to do so without anyone intervening.  
A fast running collision head-on against a concrete wall, railing, even the gates if they’re desperate enough is an incredibly painful death they prefer to their lives. The cracking of the bones, the cries of agony, the smell of the gruesome death haunts all that are near for months. Yet, there are none willing to discuss the repercussions of treatment of these creatures. Even amongst the fathiers themselves, there is no mention of what went on, they instead mourn in silence for these desperate souls.

Suddenly, Djarka is taken out of his own head by the howling winds outside. The town of Mudor is at an elevated location north of Canto Bight, it is mostly made up of poor wind farmers. These winds are deadly in the open areas during the twilight hours, and the fathiers are terrified of ever stepping foot outside when the wind starts. Some fathiers speculate that your eyes will shrivel up and your skin dragged off the bone. Djarka has no reason to question this, he has seen the wind turbines fall over at the worst of it once, but he wonders how many fathiers have been conditioned to fear the outside world. How many of their legends passed down are the truth and which are only to instill fear for eternity?

He shakes his head, this is the third time inside an hour that he catches himself thinking about it all too much, he mustn't fall into a deep depression while alone. Instead, he focuses his attention to the stable boy that is rinsing down the empty stables, he does not wander or falter in his work.  
This is a non-human child, but he looks more human than many of the aliens Djarka sees during the races. He watches as he climbs about the gates, adding in the extra padding to the bottom, then as he carries in baskets filled with succulent-like vegetables and crunchy vitamin-infused-poppers made from hay and roots. This will later be fed to Djarka, but not until the afternoon, and it feels as though an eternity and too soon all at once. After being fed, all of the fathiers will be loaded into the transporter and taken to Canto Bight for their races the next day.

After a good while of watching the child, he remembers that Seedy has not been around since early in the morning. Seedy also has duties around the stables, or at least nearby, and Djarka delights in seeing the ‘droid all day. Seedy is different from everyone that he’s ever come into contact with; for even the child does not pay the fathiers attention as Seedy does.

“Perhaps we will meet again while being walked to the transporters?” He is hopeful to see him before leaving.

It is now after supper and they begin the loud chaos that is opening the stables and moving each of the fathiers into a transporter. Each can carry six at a time, and there’s no telling who will be in each one until they’re already in transport as they are in separate gates until take off. Djarka hopes that he will see his mother in passing, if he is lucky today he will be in the same row of inside the transporter as she is. He desperately wishes to speak with her and today of all days he wants this most.

The man has brought the transporter directly in front of the winner’s stable and he knows that it is now his turn to board. He carefully steps in time with the stable boy to avoid injuring him, he does not know his name even though he’s kept an ear for it since his arrival. The man is always angry with him, he calls him “urchin” and the boy sticks his tongue out at him when he leaves. That is not his name, Djarka knows for sure. He often wonders why he is here... if there is anyone looking for him.

They walk into the stalls that line the transporter and settle into where they will tie down the gates for safety. Djarka watches, flinches slightly as he knows what is coming next.

The man then turns to him and brings out the electric whip, it stings and burns his thigh, pressing his need to hurry in past the gate.

“You, urchin, stay with number thirty-six until we arrive, he’ll be needing a new saddle for the new jockey and his feet require care. Do that before we arrive or you will not come again.”

They both watch as the man slams the gate shut and locks it from afar with a device in his hand.

“Don’t worry thirty-six, I’ll be careful with jyour new saddle and shave the hard bits down so they won’t hurt jya.” said the stable boy as he gives him a small pat under his knee.

He’s never heard the boy speak before and quite liked his little voice. It appears that he is likely younger than Djarka assumed. “He is the only child that works in the stables, he must be terribly lonely”, he thinks to himself as he’s watching him work on the saddle during their ride.

While thinking about the boy, his mind has wandered, forgotten about the importance of finding his mother. He looks around and does not see her. He does spot her brother, he is being tended to behind a curtain, but he knows that it is him from the missing patch of fur on his hind leg.

When they arrive on Canto Bight, it is loud, bright, and always too much. The thought of racing causes his stomach to drop and he feels the pull of reluctance deep inside his heart. The boy is under him, hanging on tightly to the gate that Djarka is behind.

“I hope jyu can win again tonight, thirty-six. I’ll be in the stables, but trying to see, okay?”

As he is led off the transporter ramp, he turns back to see the other transporters, but he cannot spot his mother. If he cannot ask her his questions tonight, he will not be able to until the next expected race. There is no rhyme to this, it is all up to the drawings they hold weekly in Canto Bight’s casino. Sometimes the man’s fathiers are to race many times in a week, other times, it is only once. This keeps all the fathier owners from setting up pre-determined gambling bets.

For the first time in his life, he is wishing to race more than just once this week.


End file.
